Friday, July 19, 2013

Summertime Sadness

I've always wondered what lead tasted like,
Or the smell of gunpowder on my lips,
To feel my life drain through the end of a barrel is a feeling I've always wanted to feel.

I have never planned a suicide.
But that doesn't hide the hundreds of ways I thought of doing it.

Maybe I could jump off a hotels roof?
Nope,
Afraid of heights.

I could empty our medicine cabinet with my dad’s favorite liquor?
But what if they find me first?
What if they take my decision away?
Who would trust me then?
Maybe then I wouldn't feel so alone.
I would never be alone.

What about a noose?
I've always liked the idea of going that way.
To have a tree strangle me to death,
To feel my breath being trapped inside my chest,
The best thing that could happen is my neck snaps on the jump,
Right?

Then what about drowning?
cinder block on each limb and a jump off a pier,
I’d be so near the light, that when I hit the bottom,
My eardrums would be pounding so hard I would forget the sound of my heart beating.
I’d whisper goodbye through sand stained teeth,
And when the salt from the water scratches my lungs,
At least I’ll know I never wasted any breath on any last words.
I've already said them all.

Maybe starving would be the best for me.
I've never liked the way I look,
And yet I can’t find a way to rid myself of a stomach,
I could be thin,
And feel myself in loose skin,
I already have too much.
It could be slow.
And I would have time to tell myself that it would be okay.
That at least I would look better on my death bed.

I could go out fighting.
wouldn't be able to be in the military with my medical history,
But I would find a way to war.
A way to fight with brothers I've never known.
Battle scars and bruises were something I never understood.
wasn't sure if they were a blessing to the plane ride home,
Or a curse,
A stain on skin that you couldn't wash off.
They are stains reminding us would have died for something.
A coffee ring rung around a leg that isn't there.
I would want to die for something I stood for,
I have never stood for myself.

How is electrocution ?
wouldn't know any other way but a toaster in the bath tub.
How would it feel to be on fire without burning?
To have all of our houses electricity boiling in my blood,
It would be dramatic.
I've never been one for drama though.

But fire would be different, right?
Instead of a dramatic exit,
It would be merely seconds of limelight.
I would be remembered as the man on fire.
Not the charred figure on the sidewalk,
Not the man with no way out.
Not the man with a choice.
Just a man with a match that he couldn't hold onto.

None of these ways are necessarily fast though.
I don’t plan on going to any heaven there is thought of,
I don’t plan on quite anything after I die.
I just will die.
It will be over.
I don’t want any second to think about what could be out there.

It all comes back to a gun.
Why is it so easy to make friends with bullets?
What is it about the shine of brass casings that appeals to the temples?
In the moment when a muscle squeeze of nearly 7 pounds can end my life,
I’ll realize how weak I really am.

I hope my blood drips in tempo.
That my eyes aren't fixed on the sky,
 But closed,
Because right then, it was hard to see anything good,
I wanted to be blind.
This Summertime Sun was too bright for me.
This summertime sadness was something I could never get over.

This summertime suicide has never sounded so good.

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